Funday Friday?

Funday Friday?

We had a little bit of a lie in, well, mom did anyway. I was awake, but listening to an audio book. Mom was feeling crappy from her new found cold.

We couldn't stay in the room the entire day, even if we wanted to. At some point the cleaning service would have to pay a visit. We put it off as long as we could, but finally pulled ourselves from out beds and got up to face the world. It was too late for breakfast, so we headed across the street to the ever present GBK. Hey, it's there, it's tasty, and in the major scheme of things, it's not too expensive. In case you missed it the last 37 times, this is what we had.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       After our brunch, we walked around the Brunswick Center for a little while, weaving in and out of the stores, finally ending up at our favorite place, Waitrose. We bought more damn Diet Coke and gummy candies, then made the 200 foot walk back to the hotel for a nap. We had a busy night ahead of us after all.

Our re-scheduled Sherlock Holmes Dinner was that evening. Yay!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      We got up and got dressed and took the taxi to the hotel. We got there a little early, so we had to sit in the bar to wait for the dinning room to open up. What else do you do in a bar besides drink? I got a martini of some sort, I got mom a mojito. Since I knew I would also be drinking wine that night, the next round (yes, there was a next round) was topped off with this:

Yeah, yeah, I know... but gimme a break, will ya?

We sat down to a lovely table. One with wine and all sorts of nice things.

Since it was around Christmas, there were crackers on the table. This was new to me. I'd always read about the things in the cozy stories, but I'd never experienced one in my life.  Evidently, after the dessert, you're supposed to pull them apart with the person sitting next to you. In my case, the person was a creepy old man. His wife was next to him, and his daughter and her husband were there too. They were there to celebrate the daughter's 40th birthday. I learned this from said creepy old man. In fact I learned A LOT of stuff about their family. Stuff NO ONE has to know.  Mom got to sit next to a cute little couple of friends. For some reason, tipsy Ediebaby decided it would be fun to give us fake names. It was silly and a little weird. Mom kept telling the girl that they made a 'cute' couple. Her gaydar was off that night. There was no way they were the traditional couple.

Starters was a crab-cakey thing. I think it was tasty. Quite honestly, with two martinis, I was buzzed, add the wine to that, hell I'm lucky I didn't pass out on the plate!

The story or 'murder' progressed as they do. I was distracted, learning ALL ABOUT the old fart's life and family, I have no idea what mom was doing during that time. I do know I couldn't focus on the clues in the story. This was the main meal:  Chicken? Fish? White Turnip cake? No idea. I don't even remember eating it. I'm pretty sure I did.

Truth be told, I forgot to take a picture of the dessert. I was about 5 sheets to the wind by that time, but one thing I do remember is this... There is a part in the evening where certain audience members are forced to read 'confessions'. Guess who got picked to do that? EDIEBABY! WOOOOOTTTT!!!

I did take a video of it. I will not be sharing said video here because I fear the wrath of Edie and the threat of severe bodily harm. I will, however share this pick.     +

After the show, as there was no disco like last time, so we ended up in an elevator with the family, told them good bye, and caught a black cab back to the hotel.  Somehow, I got Haggi back into the room and she and I into bed. It's all a bit of a fog. 

Thus endeth Friday.

I **** You Not!

I **** You Not!

 

 When we were last together, Mom and I had checked out of our hotel in Bruges.

We get to the train station.
"Let's go to Brussels. It's only a couple of stops away, and I want you to see the Square."

Okay, I'm game. We didn't have to be back at the main station until 4:30 for the Chunnel ride, so why not?

Now, Belgium stations are quite nice, and there are several types of trains. This time, we got on a modern one.

Bare with me for a second. I'm not going to expound on how FREAKING difficult it was to get momster's rear end on the new train, or how much of an upper body work out I got that day, but just so you know: If you're traveling with someone too old or too short (or both) to step UP, book a train with the handicapped car unlocked. Because if you don't, those bitches keep them locked up tight!

So eventually we get to an actual seat, wiping tears, sweat, and maybe a little blood from our brows. We ride the train for 2 whole stops to Brussels. 

Along the way, we meet a nice girl who showed us the way to the Square.

The first thing you're welcomed by when exiting the train station is a giant Strumpf.

Of course, we in the US of A know it as a Smurf. Evidently besides chocolate and beer, Smurfs are one of Belgium's biggest exports. I don't get it either. For some reason this one is white.

A little further along, you find this sweet little statue. An old mayor of the city sitting with his beloved doggie. I'm not sure why this guy was so popular, but if he likes doggies, he's okay in my book. (I say that lightly. Hitler liked doggies too, and he is not okay in my book).






 The Square, or the Korenmarket (grain market) is several blocks away. Now keep in mind, I'm carrying my bag, mom's bag and mom's new suitcase. It wasn't easy.

I'll spare you the slide show and just post a couple of pics.

 By the time we made it to the square, Ediebaby's new-found illness was in full swing and she was too tired to walk the next leg of the journey to Brussels's most famous attraction.
The Little Pisser Statue.

Once again, your guess is as good as mine. But hey, take the publicity where you can find it, right?

So, instead, we stayed in the square and bought the chocolate version.

Can't beat that, right?

We got our chocolate wares and hobbled our way back to the local train station. 

 
To get back to the trains, you're forced to go through some type of mall. There were escalators, but that was out of the question with Haggi, so we had to trudge up the ramp. What greeted us at the top was this guy. A dog? A cat? A Dutch wooden shoe? I don't know! It's a Moof, I guess.

This time, the train was lower, and momster was able to get her own self onto it. Thank you sweet baby Jesus!

We rode the local train back to the Eurostar station. Here, just like the first journey, we had to go through customs. The pretty lady at the checkpoint asked our relationship, as they usually do. I looked at her and smiled. 
 "She's my mother, as you can tell my the stressed expression on my face." She gave me a "I feel your pain" look and stamped our passports. 

We had a few minutes to kill, and Ediebaby was in need of the ever present Diet Coke. We found a little cafe. It was the last chance for me to have Belgian Beer in Belgium, so I got one. I was also hoping I'd develop a taste for the wretched stuff. No such luck.

Surprisingly, momster joined me in a beer, tucking the DC in her bag for later. Sitting there at the cafe, I offhandedly mentioned that I wasn't sure I'd be able to finish the beer before boarding. A guy next to us playfully said, "In Belgium, that's illegal." I thought that was funny. I still don't like beer.

 
Back on the Eurostar to cross the Chunnel!
Oh look, a dinner of cheese and carbs. Go figure.

 

 This time, I did not fall asleep. This time I went to the dining car to check it out. I got myself something I could drink. Apple cider! I know that stuff, I can drink that.

Apple cider that tastes like beer. Oh boy! I choked it down though!

A little while later, we ended back on Terra Britannia at St. Pancras Station. From there, we took a taxi back to the Bloomsbury Holiday Inn, got our bags out of storage and checked back in. 

It wasn't late by the time we got in, but it was late enough. We crawled into bed. I passed a restless night listening to mom wheeze in the next bed. Again.

You Have To Be Kidding me!

You have to be kidding me!

 

 Our last morning in Bruges, and with a little 'better living through chemistry', I had a decent night's sleep.

It was way before the 11:00 opening time, and we were due to check out at 12, so the plan was to go take pics of the area before all of the people descended upon the square.

Sounds good to me!
We had purchased candy and pastries at some point, so that's what Mom had for breakfast. I had this: 

 The breakfast of champions! White wine and orange juice that I saved from the train meal (I was with family after all). I also found a blueberry muffin from the plane in one of the deep recesses of my spy jacket. I was fed, I was watered, I was good to go!

It was wonderful! The streets were empty, there were no bugs, I was dancing around and singing, looking into shop windows. I was buzzed, I was relaxed and for the first time this whole trip, I was starting to have a good time. Until...

"Close your coat!"
"I can't. I have too many clothes on, I can barely move my arms."
"Close it anyway. I'm cold. I'm cold and my throat is scratchy."

Ah, crap.
Violation of Commandment #1!!!
Violation! Violation! Violation!

Now, this is not my first rodeo with Momster Illness. I kept my mouth shut. Hopefully she would forget about a scratchy throat. A girl can dream, right?

Okay, after taking more pictures, and losing my pleasant buzz, we made our way around the square. By this time, a nice waffle cafe was opening. Bereft of promised waffles from the day before, we went in.

MMMM waffles with chocolate sauce and tea. What could be better? Just the thing to stave off a cold. Several other patrons entered the cafe by the time we were tucking into the waffle goodness.

About 2 seconds later:

"I CAN'T EAT THIS!" Croaked through the air at a decibel reserved only for the old THX logo noise.

THX Sound Test Noise 

"What are you talking about, it's delicious!" I tried desperately to dispute.

"It's RAW! I can't eat it! It's disgusting!" 

I paused for a moment, not quite knowing what to do. We were in Belgium, not France, so I wasn't sure about the laws of Matricide. Besides, there were only plastic knives in the vicinity. I could have used my hands, I suppose, but for some reason that didn't seem viable either. 

I jumped up from the table.
"Wait here." I commanded and took off.

I ran, risking life, limb and shin splints in my heavy water resistant boots, the six blocks to the square. I kid you not, I was hauling massive (and jiggly) rear end. I was also praying I had enough euros in my pocket.
It was starting to rain too, which means the temperature had once again dropped to torture level.

I got to the square just as the waffle stand was opening.
"How long before I can get one?" 
"You have to wait 10 minutes, the grill isn't hot yet."

Fine. 10 minutes it is. The grill wasn't hot yet, but guess what was?

TARTIFLETTA!!!!  I checked my funds. I had just enough for one serving of tartifletta and one Brussels waffle.

Yes, this is a Brussels waffle. What we Yanks typically think of as a Belgian Waffle. The other is a Leige waffle and it's supposed to be soft and gooey. Ok, fine. I get the waffle and the tartifletta, tied up nicely please, and I haul it back to the waffle shop.

Momster is still there, thankfully, because God knows I wasn't in the mood to go searching for her. It was about 11:30 at this point, and we had a check out time to get back to.

I pull the lump that is She Who Must figuratively by the ear back to the hotel. I thrust the waffle in her hands and demand that she eat it.

"This is so good!" 
Damn well better be!

I ate my tartifletta, we use the facilities one last time and make our 12:00 check out. We hire a car to take us to the train station.

This seems like a good place to stop for this day's adventure.

IN BRUGES

In Bruges - Not just a good movie, but a state of mind.

 

Wednesday in Bruges. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the tourists descend upon the square with a fervor. 

None of that is true. Winter sun in Bruges is more like a 20 watt halogen bulb than a bright orange spot light. The birds are hibernating unless someone is tossing bread at them and the tourist trade is slow this time of year. How slow?  Slow enough that the day off in Bruges for a lot of cafes and such is what else? Wednesday. 

Okay, no worries. That's fine. There are plenty of other places open to accept my Euros. So mom didn't get to try every single waffle place that day. Not to worry, tomorrow will come soon enough. For now, trading hours are limited to 5, so we have to get going.

As you walk through the smalls streets of Bruges, you'll see wonderful weird things. S and M stores, The Dali store and chocolate shops. Lots of chocolate shops. I won't bore you with the usual tourist retoric, so I'll just show you a couple of photos.

 This sculpture was in the window of a chocolate shop. It literally shows one guy's clothes burned off by his butt because his buddy set one of his farts on fire. Yeah. Your guess is as good as mine.

This is a random waffle shop. Looks good, right? 

Random cold dog hanging out with the merchants in the fish market. With mom's sensitive nose, (and revulsion when it comes to fish), we didn't spend too much time walking through it.


Now, I am no stranger to Belgian Chocolate, and after eating all the horrible things I had, I just wasn't in the mood to eat any. Here's a nice pic, though.

Weirdly, Ediebaby wasn't really interested in the chocolates either. She was on a mission. She wanted Belgian Tapestry, and she wasn't leaving until she got some!

What is that? You may well be asking. Not to worry, I will elucidate. 

Evidently, it's a thing. Not just a thing, but a THING. People love it. If you do a Google search for Belgian Tapestry, you'll see small pieces in picture frames for exorbitant amounts of money. We weren't in the market for something to put on the wall, we were in the market for something a little more utilitarian.

We walked back and forth between stores. This store, that store, hither and yon and back again, searching for the perfect thing. I'm not a big print person, so this didn't excite me in the least. Momster, however was all over it.

After narrowing down the field quite a bit, it was down to two or three things. I was rooting for the animal print, but in the end, mom got something like this:

 This isn't the actual object, but it's the same kind of print. She calls them 'Her Ladies', and she likes it very much. Let's just say, it wasn't cheap. You can get counterfeit versions of this stuff too, but we weren't going to do that.

After finding the best one the entire city had to offer, we went back to the hotel to drop it off. By this time, the stores were closing up and belly bells were starting to ring.

We decided to go a little further afield for the evening's meal ending up at 

OLD BRUGES
 

 

Here, I was able to get something a little less heavy. I had a chicken dish with some veggies, mom got something similar.

It was tasty. Not too heavy and just the right amount of food. 

Also, because I'm an obvious masochist, I decided to give beer one more try. I asked for the best local variety. Want to guess what I was given? Something with Zect in the name. Go figure. Was it nasty? Oh you bet ya! But not as thick and nasty as the alcoholic tar I had consumed the previous night.

 After eating this, my body was hurting even more. I didn't realize that was a possiblity, but it was. Momster, however doesn't suffer from this kind of malaise. She decided to go for dessert.

Apple pie done the Belgian way. Kinda Dutch, kinda French, all tasty.

Following dinner, we hobbled ourselves back to the hotel. Yes, it was cold. Maybe I hadn't mentioned that.

Terrible Tuesday - Deux

Terrible Tuesday -  Deux

 

 Deux, see what I did there? We're in Belgium, so, you know... French. 

Anyway, when last we met, I was expounding on the joys of Tartifletta. Please don't get me started on this because I will literally not stop talking until I get some.

So, the sun was setting in Brugge. Which means it was probably 3:30 pm. That's 15:30 for my 24 hour clock friends.  

When night falls in Brugge, you know it. The sun ducks behind the horizon, the merchants close up shop, and people scramble to get inside. Why? IT GETS COLDER!!!!

I'm not kidding. Bruges, (back to the US spelling) is open from 11:00 - 4:00 in the winter time, and for good reason. Fine. We hobble our way back to the Pand. What is there to do in Bruges when the shops and markets are closed? Not much. 

"Let's go get something to eat." Says Momster. Now, keep in mind, I'd recently consumed not only the carb-filled  offering pressed upon us on the train, but the newly found Food of the Gods (tartifletta).

We asked the concierge at the hotel if there was a place to go for a simple dinner. He recommended a local pub that serves 'basic pub food'. I had no idea what that was in the US or England, much less in Belgium. So, why not?

We make our way to a small hole in the wall called

De Belleman Pub

 No kidding, this place is such a hole in the wall, it took me 30 minutes to find it on the map because I forgot to write down the name of it.

 Whatever the case, we found it.
At this time, not only was the sun deciding to tuck in for the night, it was starting to sprinkle. Ahh, blessed refuge.

The inside of the Bellemen, is pretty much everything you want in a pub. It had a bar, some booths, some tables and over in the corner, a pool table.   We were early and pretty much the only people in the place. That was fine by me, although I wouldn't have minded checking out some of the local evening rituals. Instead, we looked at the drinks menu.

Now, I can find my way around a French menu, and to a certain extant, a Flemish one. What I don't know is beer. And what else is Belgium known for besides Chocolate and terror attacks? Beer. So, when in Bruges, do what the Brugians (?) do. I looked down the menu and chose Robijn Rood. Why? I liked the name. Ediebaby got rum and diet Pepsi.

To say I was not prepared for what I got was an understatement. I was now faced with consuming a fishbowl of beer. Nasty, nasty beer. I don't like beer anyway, but this... this was ridiculous.

Here's what I looked like drinking it.  Momster enjoyed every single second of my discomfiture. No surprise there. Along with the horrific beverage, we chose to order the house specials. These were the Lasagna and the Vegetables. Vegetables sounded wonderful to me after eating all of the carbs and cheese the last few days. I was looking forward to nice stewed or steamed or even crunchy veggies. I was sadly mistaken.

What it was was veggies and pasta, in a white cream sauce covered in cheese. With bread. Sigh. To this day I can't fathom how these people have existed through the millennia. According to modern nutrition, the entire population should have been wiped out before the Plague.

The dinner was pretty pleasant, despite the heaviness of the meal. I suppose when you live that close to the Arctic Circle, you need the extra poundage. Living in L.A., not so much.

Here are a couple of other pics of the pub, in case you were interested.

Not a bad place at all. At least it was a pleasant way to pass a chilly, drizzly evening.

After consuming our (arguably) meager repast, we hobbled (Momster) and shivered (me)  the four blocks back to the hotel. We took our time with our meal, so it was about 7:00 by the time we got to the hotel. It felt a lot later. There was no television in the room, so we didn't have much to do but Skype home, read and sleep. So that's what we did. As the jet lag was still lingering, it wasn't as hard to do as you would imagine.

Tomorrow was to be a full day in Bruges. Things to do and peoples to ogle.